Battle for Christophsis
by Ranschaj
Summary: A series of perspectives as the Empire fights to retake Christophsis from a new and mysterious enemy.
1. Chapter 1

"Designate target, Alpha Three," a calm, smooth voice came over the bridge. The holodisplay shifted, changing from the wide view of seventeen Imperial Star Destroyers and six alien vessels to focus in on one of the six alien vessels, one of the five smaller vessels, though small was a matter of perspective Thrawn mused.

The vessel highlighted by the tactical holodisplay was easily the size of Grand Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo's flagship the _Chimaera_, but rather than sharp angles designed to allow all guns to fire on a single target, this vessel was thickly armored, with much fewer gun emplacements, and the shape was organic, with long smooth curves perfectly designed to deflect directed fire. One could be forgiven for assuming the vessel to be a primarily defensive ship, but Thrawn knew better.

The lines might be smooth and organic, but they were predatory, and the vessels sublight engines were large and powerful, the ship to ship weapons, though few in number, vastly outstripping turbolasers in their power output. It was perfectly designed to rush an enemy ship formation, shrugging off incoming fire, and unleash devastating firepower.

"Target is at full strength, or so we believe, Admiral," Commodore Faro said as the display gave readouts of the ship it was currently focused on, "It's managed to stay out of the fighting. It seems content to watch the battle from a lower orbit."

"Notice its position in orbit," the Chiss Grand Admiral spoke, still as calm as ever, even the chatter between the ships of the Seventh fleet rattled through the bridge all around them.

The imperial woman expanded the display slightly, to show more of the space surrounding Alpha Three, "It's holding above Omega? A last line of defense for the command ship?"

"A certain possibility," Thrawn admitted to the captain of his ship, "However, note its current attitude, it isn't ready to respond to any threat from high orbit."

The commodore's face lit up with understanding, "But it is ready to move to a lower orbit anywhere over the planet."

"Exactly, I believe that if we were to land ground forces to oppose those deployed by Omega, Alpha Three would move to cut them off."

"Meaning that if we were to support the ground war, we would have to dispatch Alpha Three first," Karyn Faro finished, then pointed out the current problem, "Unfortunately we are going to have to break through the Alpha's One, Two, and Four. Reports from the _Strikefast_ indicate that those three ships were able to knockout Christophsis' defenses by themselves."

"True," the Chiss agreed, "The alien ships appear to have a significant power advantage to our own. We will have to be careful in our engagement, but I do not believe we can delay landing ground forces. Their aggressive destruction of all ships, military and civilian, suggest that they are likely not discriminating their targets on the ground."

"Sir!" Lieutenant Hammerly called from the crewpit, "Enemy capital ships appear to be launching fighters! They are orienting themselves to face us, but are holding steady.

"A defensive posture," Thrawn mused quietly as he brought the holodisplay to show the entire field. The three targets in high orbit were indeed oriented towards the incoming Seventh Fleet, dozens of specks flying out from each warship, already Hammerly was designating target signs for each formation, and pulling as much information about the fighters as she could from the sensors.

The defensive posture was puzzling, considering how much zeal and aggression they had shown in their initial attack on Christophsis. Almost as though the Empire's presence had been a personal affront to the aliens, but now they sat on their heels, content to let the Seventh Fleet sit outside of weapons range and simply observe. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to observe directly, as the ship designated Omega was so large, it blotted out much of the ground activity, and it's mere presence and power generation was enough to disrupt communications with the Imperial garrison on the planet.

There's something down there on the planet that they want.

"Commodore Faro," the Grand Admiral instructed, "Instruct Star Destroyers _Rancor, Dragon's Breath, Spartan, _and _Vengeance _to launch all Ties, along with our own. They are to form up into five distinct waves. Waves one and two will be the standard Ties, wave three will be Tie Interceptors, wave four will be our bombers, and wave six will be made of Tie Defenders."

The Chiss barely registered his exceedingly brilliant second in command relay his orders to the rest of the fleet as tactics and strategies played themselves out in his mind. Typically, he would prefer far more time to study his adversary and their movements and their culture before engaging in combat, but the situation demanded immediate action. What little the Imperial Star Destroyer _Strikefast_ had been able to relay about the attack had painted a picture of slaughter, with the aliens ruthlessly hunting down any and all Imperial citizens and killing them without hesitation. Thrawn's very own Seventh Fleet had been the closest force available to counterstrike, and so the Emperor had sent the Chiss admiral and his fleet into battle with an unknown enemy of unknown strength and unknown tactics.

Thrawn was highly regarded for his tactical and strategic brilliance, but the majority of his genius came from his ability to learn from his opponents over a series of interactions and be able to guess their next moves with frightening accuracy. Against the unknown, Thrawn was still likely the best military tactician the Empire had, but his best advantage would be nullified for the opening bout.

"Star Destroyers _Balefire _and _Iron Fist_ will also launch all Ties, but their target is the planet's surface," the Grand Admiral continued to order, Commodore Faro relaying his commands with precision and confidence, "the _Balefire_ will descend first, one hundred kilometers west of Omega, Captain Reetan and the _Iron Fist _will provide cover for the _Balefire_ while they offload troops, and then will switch places. Captain Pallaeon."

Ships were already underway, the two ships designated for the surface already breaking from formation as swarms of fighters surrounded the fleet, organizing themselves into lines according to Thrawn's design.

"Captain Pallaeon will take the _Harbinger, _and the _Sovereign_ and jump out of the system on the galactic west, launch all Tie Defenders, and hold position, and wait for my signal."

"The remaining nine Star Destroyers will hold position, Tie fighters, push forward, and engage."

…

Verun Tolamee stroked his mandibles absentmindedly as he watched the triangular ships of the human empire shift in response to his three battlecruisers launching fighters and moving into a defensive posture.

"Fleetmaster," a white armored officer of the Fleet of Repentant Salvation spoke from one of the sensor terminals, "Enemy ships are launching fighters, four configurations noted, threat levels being determined. Four ships breaking off, two headed towards the surface!"

"And the other two?"

The sangheili warrior shook his helmeted head as he looked back to his superior officer, the gold armored Verun, "Jumped away, using that unusual FTL of theirs. Vector puts it to the galactic west."

The four sharp toothed mandibles of the ancient sangheili curled into a vicious smile that set lesser species on edge.

"Our adversary thinks themselves clever! He aims to catch the _Ancestor's Wrath_ in a trap. Veritus!"

The communication holotable lit up with the hulking visage of a jiralhanae chieftain. Most sangheili refused to work with the simian aliens, citing them as unclean, brutish, and unfit for honorable battle. Verun was under no illusions as to the honor of his fieldmarshal Veritus. The jiralhanae was vicious and cunning, in a low, animal way, but there was no one in the fleet as ruthless and efficient as the massive chieftain, and as long as he respected the sangheili warriors under his command, Veritus would remain the Fieldmarshal of the Fleet of Repentant Salvation.

"Fleetmaster," the brute rumbled lowly, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You're about to be busy," the saurian alien replied, "the human's are about to land two ships worth of enemy forces. I could stop them…"

"Aw… don't take away my fun!"

No one could say Veritus didn't love his duty, "I do not intend to, but I will not be able to provide additional air support."

The chieftain snarled and clenched his hammer with both meaty hands, "I will make do, and gladly!"

"I have no doubt."

The transmission ended just as the _Blade of Holy Justice's_ shipmaster spoke from the tactical map, "Enemy fighters are moving to engage."

Verun stood to his full eight feet from his throne and approached the map, "And so it begins!"


	2. Chapter 2

Then engines of the TIE/D Defender screamed behind Zula Reegars. Although no sound traveled through the void of space, she could imagine the scream of the eleven other TIE Defenders in her squadron, she could almost comprehend the roar of the three hundred and sixty TIE fighters bearing down on the three alien capital ships.

More and more enemy fighters were appearing on her scopes, some were as big as a Lambda class shuttle, but moved more like her own TIE Defender, but of the three hundred and sixty eight fighters on her scopes, most were small, even smaller than TIE Interceptors. Kriff, they were barely bigger than an escape pod! But the moved fast, even faster than the big ones.

"Designate large enemy fighters Bravo," the TIE Wing Commander of the Chimaera, Captain Benj Dobbs spoke over general comms, his TIE Defender just ahead and to the starboard of Zula's own. Even as he spoke, Lieutenant Reegars' scope filled up with eighty designated Bravos, all numbered.

"Small fighters will be designated Charlie," again, Zula's scopes changed, with two hundred and eighty eight contacts changed status to Charlie, once again all numbered.

"Wave One," Dobbs continued, "Attack the top fringe of their formation and draw them out and back. Wave Two, go down, follow the same pattern as Wave One. Wave Three, engage every fighter not drawn off."

The Imperial pilot looked out her front viewport, watching as the first two lines of TIE IN's red ion thrusters exploded with energy as the fighters broke off in pursuit of their orders.

"Interceptors, like the bolt from a blaster, you will clear the way for our bombers, target is Alpha Two, we split them in half. Defenders, all squadrons stay on the tail of your bombers, defend them at all costs, we take out the tip of this spear and the Grand Admiral will be able to clear out the rest."

Zula watched as the distance between friendly contacts and enemy contacts decreased rapidly, then was brought back to her viewport as the space in front of her lit up with the distant flashes of green TIE fighter lasers, and the blue pulses of the enemies returning fire.

"_Charlies' got no shields!"_

"_Watch that return fire!"_

"_Stone 3, you've got one on your tail!"_

"_Can't shake hi- AAAAGH-"_

"_Rage 4, bank left… GOT HIM! Charlie down!"_

"_It's like trying to shoot mynocks!"_

"_Interceptors!"_ Dobbs voice broke the sound of the engagement, "_GO GO GO!"_

Brighter green flashes appeared as the four heavy laser cannons of the TIE Interceptors shot forward, drilling through unshielded Charlie fighters who wilted and parted under the heavy fire. Soon, a path to Alpha Two opened up in the fighter screen.

"_Bombers we only get one shot at this!_"

A pair of Bravos shot across the head of the Interceptor spear point, heavy blue cannons ripping through the unshielded TIE's.

"_Unload everything you've got, we have to punch through those shields,"_ the captain continued issuing orders even as the bomber's red ion drives pulsed brightly and shot the heavy fighters forward, _"Once you've unleashed your payload, make a hard burn and get back to your ship!"_

"_Contact!_"

The call came from Steel 6, the tip of the bombing spear, and Zula took a firm grip of her controls as she and her fighter entered the dogfight.

A Charlie came up from below and to the right, these aliens recognizing heavy weapons platforms even if they'd never seen a TIE before, and closed in on the Lieutenant's designated TIE/sa. A twist of the controls lined up Zula's six heavy laser cannons with the small, sleek, purple and red craft.

All six cannons chuffed and chittered as they unleashed their deadly energy, but only one was needed as the apparently fragile craft was cored cleanly and careened off into the void.

"_Good shot, Zed 3!"_

"I've got you, Gold 2," Zula acknowledged, "Heads up, contact with Alpha Two in forty five seconds!"

A pair of Charlies lined up head on with Gold 2, trying to take on the heavy fighter without having to deal with its dangerous escort, but she was the most talented pilot in the Seventh Fleet, she had been posted to Zed Squadron for a reason. With a graceful roll that made the three winged profile of the TIE Defender look like a spinning drill bit, Zed 3 dropped beneath the plane of her escort and fired all six laser cannons across Gold 2's face. Both Charlies erupted into fireballs as the heavy green bolts thrashed through them.

"_Gold 6, take evasive action! I've got a Bravo on me! I can't-"_

Static filled the line as Zed 9 fell off her scopes, a large Bravo fighter closing in on Gold 6. Her sensors wasn't able to detect the power output of the enemy fighter's weapons, but they had to be powerful to punch through a TIE Defender's shields and destroy it in just a few shots. The TIE/sa bomber stood no chance and quickly dropped off the battlefield as the oversized starfighter ripped through it.

"_Reaper leader, do you copy?"_ Dobbs called as Zula had to yank her stick to the side as a some sort of superheated green energy missile shot past her.

"_This is Reaper 1, I copy, Zed leader_."

Blue balls of energy splashed across her shields, the Lieutenant watching her shield integrity dropping with each successful hit. The Charlie fighters might be small and fragile but they packed a hell of a punch.

A quick punch to the reverse thrusters sent the smaller craft flying over Zula's right shoulder and directly into her targeting reticule, where it burst into fire briefly as the oxygen was inside the cabin was sucked into the vacuum where it was extinguished instantly.

"_We have our window, coordinate with other interceptor squadrons, and hunt down those Bravos!"_

Rapid pulses of blue came across her front viewport, raking across Gold 2 as another Charlie came from the left. It too exploded into a purplish pinkish fireball.

"You alright, Gold 2?"

"_I'm good, armor on this baby is plenty thick. Wouldn't want to take sustained fire though._"

"… _copy that Zed 1, Reaper 1 out."_

"_Fifteen seconds to range with Alpha Two,"_ Gold Leader called out.

Indeed, based on Zula's own onboard computer, they were rapidly approaching the bomber squadron's missile range. Ahead, rapidly filling the front viewport of the TIE fighter, was the giant pinkish/purplish aquatic looking hull of Alpha Two. The ship had adopted a stagnant defensive stance, choosing to remain where it was at the vanguard of the trio of ships attempting to defend Omega.

Technically, the ship in front of them wasn't much bigger then a star destroyer, similar length, similar width, and it was even shorter height wise, but in reality, it cut an imposing figure against the void. The armor plating was clearly much thicker than an ISD's, even if the thick armor only protected the flanks and the front while leaving the bottom and top with much less protection. The spikes sticking out from the bottom of the nose gave the impression of some sort of sea predator, ready to strike in a sudden burst of movement and sink sharp claws in the unwary Imperials and drag them screaming into the depths.

"_I'm reading point defense guns, pulse lasers, kriff there's a lot of them!"_

Even as the call came over the comms, soft purple beams lanced out from the shell of the deadly ship, lashing out at the approaching starfighters.

"_Evasive actions, prep proton torpedos, delta spread. Fire at will_," Gold Leader called as Zula watched Gold 2 duck underneath a neat, thin purple laser.

"_Defenders, break off! Its on them now!_" Dobbs barked.

Zed 3 slammed the pilot back into her seat as it pitched up, climbing rapidly out of the range of the point defense guns and wheeling around to engage with trailing enemy fighters that were looking to gun down the bombers before they could deliver their payload.

Flashes came from behind her Defender, as the surviving twenty nine TIE bombers unleashed the first portion of their payload, each firing six proton torpedoes apiece. The torpedoes spread out, trying to find a weak spot in the shields.

"_All bombers, focus fire on dorsal hangar bay!"_

Apparently they found one.

Green flashed out the viewport as Zula unleashed three of her heavy laser cannons, shredding a lone Charlie trying to chase down a reorienting bomber. A Bravo crossed her screen, chasing a pair of TIE/IN fighters, quickly and easily dispatching the two starfighters.

As unfortunate as it was that those two pilots lost their lives, it did give Zula her chance to engage one of the fighters that was quickly becoming infamous, at least amongst the pilots who had survived the dogfight so far. The Defender jerked and jolted as her hand worked the controls of the powerful craft to slide in right behind the oversized tadpole looking ship.

The Charlies were proving to be dangerous in groups, or if one got on your tail and stayed there, but were fragile, and their weapons weren't so powerful that a TIE couldn't survive a couple of stray shots, but the Bravos were tough, only twelve of the eighty crafts had been destroyed, they were fast, able to outrun Interceptors flat out and were maneuverable to boot, and to top it all off, they had weapons that could punch through a TIE/sa's armor in a single shot.

And, Zula realized as she spun the control stick, avoiding a large blue blob of energy, they could shoot those powerful guns backwards.

All six laser cannons lit up, firing simultaneously. The large green bolts slammed into the profile of the Bravo, splashing uselessly against the thing's shields. That explained why the were so tough, no problem though, as Zula thumbed the missile launchers, loading two concussion missiles, designed to pop fighter shields or penetrate starship armor with velocity and detonate inside.

The alien pilot was good, but his oversized ship and Zula's own not so inconsiderable skill got him put squarely in the sights of the Defender, the targeting computer confirming a good lock, and with a flick of the woman's gloved fingers, the missiles were away… and were promptly flung away as the missiles seemed to scrape along the edge of the shields and shoot off into the void.

"Missiles are no good against Bravos while shields are up," the Lieutenant called out over comms as she reoriented on the larger fighter and once again laid into it with her laser cannons, "They have some sort of deflector that confuses the guidance systems."

"_Too nimble for proton torpedoes," _another voice added on, _"Whittle shields with lasers, finish them with concussion missiles."_

Setting her heavy laser cannons to rotational fire, Reegars was able to keep a constant barrage on the Bravo's shields, and finally managed to pop them, scoring several direct hits along its dorsal hull, but even the heavy lasers only managed to score and scorch the thick and durable armor of the purple craft.

Again, she lined up her sights with the Bravo, and again she heard the tone indicating missile lock, and again, she fired. This time, however, the concussion missile struck true, punching into the armor of the oversized fighter and detonating from within, leaving nothing but scrap.

"_Zed 3 you've got a fighter on your eight o'clock!"_

Zula didn't even have time to check her scopes to confirm the call as her instruments started to blare in alarm. Two large globs of energy struck her shields, shattering them in an instant, and a third struck her top wing, sending her into an uncontrolled spin from the energy imparted by the shot, and the destruction of the maneuvering thruster the weapons fire hit.

"I've lost control!"

Her straps holding the pilot to the seat were the only reason Zula wasn't already dead or unconscious as the inertial dampeners struggled with the constantly rotating fields of inertia, constantly pulling her out and inversely slamming her into her seat as her hands desperately pulled at controls, hoping to get her fighter out of its death spiral.

Dimly, she was aware of two things as the cockpit blurred in its constant momentum. One, that the radio chatter of all the dogfighting TIE pilots was slowing down considerably, and two, that blue balls of fire were still passing by dangerously close.

Either by luck, training, or skill, Zula managed to redirect power to the other two maneuvering thrusters and compensate the power output of her ion drives to account for the missing one. With a twist of the controls, the Defender pulled out of its spiral, and found itself facing its attacker dead on.

The Lieutenant pulled hard on both triggers, as the four fully functioning and damaged fifth laser cannon opened up with everything they had on the approaching Bravo. Green bolts tore through blue blobs, tearing the enemy's weapons fire apart before they were even able to reach her, and struck the larger craft without ever encountering shields, scoring and scorching the armor, but also punching straight through the weapon barrels slung under the cockpit.

In a flash of bright and brilliant white, the larger craft exploded.

"They can't shoot through their own shields!"

"_Zula, watch out!"_

She looked to the right viewport just in time to see a Charlie unload another of those strange green missiles at her.

"Oh shi-"

Her TIE Defender blew apart.

…

"_Enemy vessels, approaching behind fighter screen._"

Jak spun his Type 27 Banshee through the wreckage of that unusual tri winged craft, his fuel rod torpedo having made short work of the odd looking fighter.

"_The Resplendent Justice has lost shields… enemy fighters are retreating."_

The Kig-Yar pitched his Banshee into a shallow dive, his wingmates following suit, as they chased down a pair of square winged enemy fighters. The enemy fighters were nimble, but nothing compared to a Banshee in the hands of a skilled pilot. The avian pilot clacked his beak in anticipation as one separated from the other, flying out of formation and isolating itself. Clawed hands squeezed on the controls and a brilliant stream of plasma cannon fire tore the funny looking fighter in two.

"_They've done what they needed too, they think we are an opportune target, they are clearing the lane for their capital cruiser's firing solutions."_

"_Enemy vessels in range in ten seconds, all fighters, clear grid zulu nine."_

A quick look at the three dimensional spacial grid confirmed for Jak that he was indeed in the indicated area, and immediately pulled up, climbing out of the soon to be deadly space. Another look provided an overall picture of the battle.

The two factions fighters had proven to be quite the match, with many Banshees being lost, but not without significant losses from the enemy fighters. Of the two hundred and eighty eight fighter craft the triangular ships had sent forth, only a scant one hundred remained. Most of them those tri winged fighters and the arrow winged fighters. Almost none of the more numerous square winged fighters had survived the dogfighting. Unshielded, cumbersome, and with a large profile, Jak and the other Banshee pilots had had their fun, tearing through their ranks. The heavy weapons fighters, the bombers, had made it through with just under fifty percent casualty rate, but only because they had had escorts.

Unfortunately, those fat fighters, the bombers, had more than enough firepower to finally drop the shields on the _Resplendent Justice_.

But that did not spell doom for the battle cruiser. Far from it.

"_Firing energy projector!"_

A thin red rimmed, white beam lashed out through the void. If Jak had had a window to view it through, the intensity and focus of the beam might have caused retinal damage to his eyes. It would have been worth it though, as watching the holographic image of the triangular battleship be split in two was just not as satisfying.

**What do you want next? Ground? Capital ships? Let me know.**


	3. Chapter 3

Corporal Hicks cradled his E-11 Blaster Rifle, half heartedly listening to Sergeant Apone's speech about kicking some motherfucking alien ass. Across from him, PFC Mark Drake stroked his DLT-19, the only distinction between him and the rest of the stormtroopers in the bay of the AT-AT was the oversized blaster and a small IFF tag appearing on the Corporal's visor, calling out the tall ginger's service ID number. No names needed for the Empire.

Ricco Frost bumped Hicks's shoulder, "Eh, man, you ready?"

"To blast some fucking bugs?" Dwayne Hicks smiled, "Always a favorite of mine!"

"Think we're gonna get air support on this one?" Dietrich asked, barely recognizable as a woman underneath the stark white armor.

"When have we ever gotten it before?" Drake asked, and though Hicks couldn't see it, he'd bet there was a dumbass smile under there.

"Yeah, man," Private Hudson joked from his spot across from Dietrich, "Striker pilots will be too busy doing barrel rolls in the sky to get down and dirty. Besides, we don't need 'em! It'll be just like the rebels on Dantooine!"

"Shut your mouth, Hudson!" Apone suddenly barked, breaking from his speech to berate the Private. Leave it to Hudson to get caught by the Sergeant.

Hudson looked back to the Sergeant, "What's the matter, Sarge? Just talking about how much we love the Corp!"

The distinguished Sergeant, made notable through his two black shoulder paldrons and bandolier, moved as though he were going to continue to berate Hudson when the intercom on the troop bay of the AT-AT interjected.

"_Sergeant!_" the voice of the transports co-pilot called through, "_We've got incoming! Brace yourselves_!"

"Time to drop?"

"_Two minutes till we reach ground forces._"

Just then, the durasteel plating beneath them shuddered and the world around them rocked as something struck the walker.

"_Armor holding._"

There were muffled pings and pops as some sort of energy round smattered across the thick armor plating of the walker, then there was the much more audible electronic thump as the pilot's returned fire at whatever was shooting at them.

Again, the walker shuddered and shaked as another blast struck it.

"_Gunship._"

"_I see it,"_ the cabin shook again, though this time not from an explosion, but from the ludicrous firepower of the AT-AT's twin heavy cannons.

"_You missed."_

"_Shut up!"_

There was more pings and pops along the outer hull as something firing down on the walker passed over head when suddenly, there were two dull thumps.

Hicks's head snapped up, "That wasn't weapons fire."

Apone apparently agreed, "On your feet! We got boarders!"

The twenty troopers in the bay all rose, the AT-AT was only at half troop capacity to make room for two AT-ST's, both of which were currently folded up on the right side of the bay, ready to drop once they reached the target. All four pilots of the walkers were sitting outside of their walkers, helmets off and tucked under their arms as they looked around with some concern as the stormtroopers began switching the safeties on their blasters off.

There was some thumping as whatever had landed on the huge walker moved over its hull. Whatever it was, it was heavy, but there only seemed to be one. It moved along the top, trying to find a way in, before moving to the right side of the AT-AT's roof where the noise fell away.

The Corporal gestured to a couple of troopers who were new to the squad to move up with him while also gesturing to Vasquez, "Keep that DLT-19 ready."

The shortest trooper in the 212th nodded as she set the heavy repeating blaster atop one of the seats. Apone got the rest of the troopers ready, spreading out and keeping behind Vasquez, all seventeen E11 blaster rifles pointed at the bay door that would slide away for entering elevated structures.

There was some scraping and it almost sounded like something was climbing down the side of the walker, although that should have been impossible, the hull was too strong to use climbing hooks as they couldn't dig in, and the angles were too sharp for someone to hold on just with friction, and the hull plating automatically demagnetized any magnetic grapples. So how was…

Two white-blue prongs slammed through the latch of the sliding door, burning the durasteel away and sending sizzling hot sparks flying through the cabin, bouncing off the thick armor plating of the AT-ST parked there.

"Here they come!"

They, was inaccurate. It implied multiple. Hicks and his fellow stormtroopers were greeted by one, singular, enemy. But what an enemy it was.

Even as its massive bulk was propelled in via a powerful jetpack on its back, Dwayne could hardly do anything but marvel at the size, the speed, the grace, and the power of the alien. With a single strike, it decapitated one of the stormtroopers that had approached with Hicks, a blue, two pronged sword easily chopping through the white armor plates of the unfortunate trooper, leaving an angry red line along the armor, and filling the air with the stench of burning flesh.

Both Hicks and the second trooper, a PFC with a service ID the Corporal wasn't familiar with, opened up with their blasters on the towering, white armored creature, only for the red blaster bolts to bounce off a shimmering barrier.

A massive four fingered fist crashed into the helmeted face of the second trooper, shattering the plastoid and twisting the metal breather underneath. The sound of the impact was nearly enough to cover up the sickening snap of the human's neck snapping.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Hicks, Vasquez opened up with her DLT-19, heavy red bolts raining down in rapid succession on the towering, eight foot tall alien. The heavy blaster bolts had the unfortunate effect of ricocheting off the shimmering shields, one striking Hicks directly in the chest piece, knocking the Corporal on his ass.

The composite plastoids were designed to diffuse the kinetic impact and heat of a blaster, but that didn't mean he went unscathed. It felt like a nerf had kicked him in his chest and then someone lit his recently kicked chest on fire, but he'd live.

That was more than he could say for the four AT-ST operators who had been caught out of the safe confines of their walking tanks. Their blaster diffusing cloth uniform provided much less protection from the strange, dual pronged energy blade than the stormtrooper's armor, and that had already proven ineffectual.

One of the pilots had literally been cut vertically in half. Another was missing both of his arms, rolling on the ground howling in pain and no way to get back up. The third operator managed to raise his blaster pistol, but was beheaded before he could so much as squeeze off a shot. The fourth one, a man who'd probably never had someone take a shot at him without five inches of durasteel between him and the shooter, stood frozen in fear, taking no note of the crimson and scarlet blaster bolts flying past him and overhead. A few hit their mark, again, only ricocheting off the alien's shields.

The hulking being, with strange hooves and two fingered, two thumbed hands, raised its unarmed hand, and brought it down, open palmed, on the pilot's helmet so hard, it pushed the poor man's skull through the neck and into the chest cavity with a disgusting squelch.

Hicks finally managed to pull himself back together, though his chest still felt like it had been caved in and set on fire, and switched the trigger on his E11 from single fire, to rapid fire. To hell with safety regs.

The rapid pulsing of the E11 in his hands made a few shots go wide, but Dwayne Hicks hadn't passed the intense stormtrooper training through sheer luck, and kept the majority of his shots on target. The first three were stopped by the shimmering barrier, which grew brighter, and almost appeared to be cracking, before the fourth one finally shattered it. Five, six, and seven all landed directly on the alien's white, segmented armor, but while the bolts may have been strong enough to incapacitate an armored stormtrooper, the monster standing before him was seemingly unfazed, as it merely used its jetpack to rush into the crowd of troopers on the other side of the bay.

Vasquez was the first one to meet it, shifting her heavy DLT-19 to continue raining heavy fire on the hulking alien, and received the impossibly hot edge of the blue sword for her efforts, molten armor falling to the floor in red globs as her cries were silenced instantly.

Another broad swing of that strange looking energy sword cut through another three stormtroopers as the soldiers moved closer, trying to crowd in around the beast.

"No!" Hicks shouted as he took a few wobbling steps forward, "Spread out!"

Drake lost his leg just above the knee before the rest of the stormtroopers could heed the Corporal's words. The heavy gunner fell with a scream, his helmet muffling and distorting the noise.

"Coordinated fire!" Sergeant Apone yelled over the screams of the dying, "Shoot its legs out, or go for its head!"

A hail of crimson bolts crisscrossed the bay, burning through the thinner leg plates and striking flesh underneath. The alien roared in pain, or maybe it was rage, whatever the noise was, it wasn't joyous. Those injured legs still held a lot of power in them, however, as it propelled its massive bulk into a leap that crossed ten feet and ended with a trooper's chest collapsing under its stupendous weight.

Hicks lined his sights up with the alien's head, right on the black visor that seemed to be in some sort of semi-liquid state. The E11 bucked in his hands as yet another stormtrooper fell, a glowing gash across his chest with burnt flesh and melted armor pouring from the wound. A crimson bolt splashed against the shoulder armor, scorching the white metal, followed by another one, that clipped the top of the white, ornate armor piece, burning the tip off and casting burnt shards into the alien's face, and finally, the third one struck the semi-liquid black visor.

The almost gooey substance seemed to burn when the bolt struck, causing the massive alien to rear back, putting a four fingered hand to its chin and ripping the helmet off.

_What an ugly son of a…_

The thought was cut off as the creature's four mandibles spread wide and let loose a guttural roar that, no longer muffled by its helmet, shook the Corporal to his bones.

The enraged beast struck down another stormtrooper, moving so fast it seemed to blur. No creature that large had any right being so fast. Nor did any living thing have any right to be so tough, as blaster shots pounded the creature's large body, but only served to enrage it, they needed to get close.

Hicks had received more than a few disciplinaries from the ISB and Sergeant Apone for it, but Hicks always kept his Verpine Shatter Gun on the small of his back. The modified coil gun was designed to fire a dozen flechettes with each pull of the trigger. For close encounters.

His chest burned, and he was short of breath, but adrenaline surged and the Corporal surged forward, each step shooting pain through his body until he was right behind the alien, who turned to stab him with its burning sword.

"Eat THIS!"

The coil gun was near silent in its operation, so the only sound in the bay was the sound of the alien's head being rent apart and its grey matter splattering the ceiling.

"Kriffin A man!" Hudson shouted as the giant body slumped to the ground, "How many of these fucking things did they bring?"

"What is this thing?" Dietrich asked, poking the gory paste that used to be the thing's head with the barrel of her E11.

"Look sharp!" Apone shouted, "We're dropping in less then a minute, and we've already taken casualties! So buck up and-"

The sound of thrusters brought Hicks's attention away from the Sergeant and out towards the still open bay of the AT-AT, where the city scape of Christophis passed by slowly, too slowly. A pair of those armored aliens, same strange gooey visor, same sleek compact jetpack, were hanging on the edge of a massive skyscraper the walker was passing. They had activated their packs, and were hurtling straight into the bay.

"INCOMING!"

The two flying aliens, both maroon colored, crashed into the bay, their strange two toed hooves smashing into the durasteel deck. The weapons in their hands, strange, oblong purple weapons with a spinning component in between two prongs and a shining blue light at the tip. Not a sword, so…

"Hit the DECK!"

Hicks, Hudson, Dietrich, and Frost all managed to hit the deck, they were all coincidentally, soldiers in his command. Apone managed to grab a stormtrooper and pull them to the deck, but most stayed on their feet, and were blasted by thick, blue blaster bolts.

Whatever weapons the aliens' were wielding, were far hotter than the average blaster bolt, but with a lot less kinetic energy. Hicks watched one trooper take a blue bolt directly to his chest piece, which erupted in a fountain of molten plastoid, but he was able to keep his feet and return fire, until a second bolt hit him in the chest again, burning right through his ruined chest piece and cooking him alive from the inside out.

"Hudson!" Hicks shouted over the blaster bolts, "Get Drake's gun!"

The overly mouthy stormtrooper, for once, didn't have anything to say as he crawled underneath the crisscrossing bolts, grabbing the DLT-19 and pulling it up and pointing it at the two maroon colored aliens.

The stream of crimson bolts smashed into the shields of the two beasts, and to Hick's surprise, the barriers shattered. One took two bolts to the chest and dove behind one of the AT-STs, while the other one was struck four times, once in the chest, twice in the legs, and once in the gut, tearing the huge form of the creature apart. The Corporal popped up, E11 in his right hand, putting his shatter gun away with his left and pursued the last alien behind cover.

As he rounded the corner, three blue bolts passed by, one clipping him in his orange corporal shoulder pauldron, melting the tip off, which threw off his aim as the first two bolts from his E11 struck the alien in its own shoulder, scorching the deep red metal. With a jerk, the stormtrooper pulled the barrel of his blaster rifle back on target and held the trigger down, punching crimson bolts through the thick chest plate and through the back in half a dozen shots.

"Pilots!" Apone was at the hatch leading into the cockpit, "We've got to stop and circle the wagons, get a line to the Colonel!"

"…"

"Pilots!?"

The Sergeant opened the hatch, and started in, when something came out, tackling the white armored soldier on its way.

With a raspy screech and a flash of… feathers? Blood sprayed from Apone's throat, coating the blue armored alien in red.

Much smaller than the other three that had forced their way into the AT-AT, this creature was only the height of a human, and had feathery quills on the back of hits head, sticking up from a blue helmet. The hands ended in four fingers again, but with only one thumb, and much more dangerous claws, one hand of which, was covered in bubbling blood, and instead of mandibles, this birdlike monstrosity had a beak, lined with saw-like teeth.

"Open Fire!"

With a snap, the alien activated a bright blue ray shield that reflected blaster bolts back at the stormtroopers, who by this time, had started to figure out how to dodge their own shots coming back at them. That said, they also knew the value of keeping their fire up, if only to keep that alien from pulling up its own weapon, a strange looking sidearm with pink needles sticking out the top, and it also helped Hudson move closer.

"You want some?!" Private Hudson came from the avian alien's side, vibroblade whirring in his hand.

The feathered creature, the same height as any of the stormtroopers, ducked under the first swing of the blade and kicked out with one talon filled foot. The blow landed squarely in the large man's midsection, the sharp talons only scraping the durable plastoid armor, but the force was enough to lift Hudson in the air and knock the feet out from under him.

The man hadn't become a stormtrooper for nothing, however, as the white clad soldier surged forward on hands and knees and caught the next foot with his vibroblade, cutting the small alien's front three toes off. The birdlike monster fell with a shriek, as Hudson climbed over its prone body and slammed the tip of the blurred blade into its chest.

One trooper rushed past Hudson, into the cockpit, "Both pilots dead! Looks like the thing came in through the top hatch. Oh Fuck!"

"What is it, trooper?" Hicks called as he pushed forward towards the AT-AT's cockpit.

"Our way is blocked, sir! Enemy armor line straight ahead, lots of enemy fighters in the air."

The Corporal pushed into the frontmost compartment of the walker and looked out the thick transparasteel window. A kilometer and a half ahead, alien vehicles, short, squat, and purple, formed around large piles of rubble that the walker would never make it over. Just a few hundred meters in front of the walker, another AT-AT comes from a side street of the city, their way must have been blocked as well, but they also came out in range of the alien armor units.

Huge blobs of blue energy were launched into the air, arcing in an unnatural line, for it couldn't have been gravity affecting them, their angles far too parallel to the ground. Judging by the number of energy projectiles launched into the air, there were eight of these energy mortars by the roadblock.

The blue projectiles reached their peak and came down, much harder then Hicks expected, for as lazily as they had been floating through the air, he hadn't realized the velocity they would achieve on their way down. They exploded against the thick, durable armor of the AT-AT ahead of them. The huge walker was certainly rocked, its surprisingly flexible legs bending to absorb the impact and stay upright, but it seemed to weather the storm well, then the second barrage fell.

Those mortars must have been able to fire every five seconds, or they had another line hidden behind the rubble. In either case, the Imperial walker was rocked once again, this time its armor started to slag off of its gigantic frame. One mortar splashed against the head of the AT-AT, engulfing the head in brilliant blue flame before receding to reveal the scarred and battered command pod of the walker.

Miraculously it still stood, and even functioned, after taking sixteen of the large blue projectiles, though perhaps it should not have been so surprising. The walker had been designed to take multiple rounds from the strongest anti-armor guns in the galaxy. Sure the beast of a machine had weak points on the legs, but you had to be shooting specialized ion rounds to take advantage of those. Perhaps Hicks merely overestimated the power of those mortars, perhaps they weren't as strong as he had suspected.

Another barrage hit the other walker, now fully out into the road Hicks and his company of stormtroopers had been taking, and tore the large, quadrupedal machine to bits and pieces. Another round hit the head of the walker, completely slagging the heavily armored component. A few rounds struck the legs, completely snapping them in half with the sheer kinetic force of their release. As the monstrous machine fell, more struck the main carriage, punching through the armor and exploding inside, shooting debris, and melted stormtroopers, in all directions.

"Sir, the walker is still headed forwards."

Hicks noticed, with a start, that the walker they were in was, indeed, still pacing forward. The only reason they hadn't been shot yet could only be due to being out of range of those energy mortars. The Corporal reached down and yanked the throttle back, swaying on his feet as the AT-AT halted its slow walk immediately.

Another volley launched into the air, following the same, weird trajectory the other shots had, too flat for their lethargic velocity to account for. Hicks watched with baited breath as the mortars creeped closer, waiting for the boom of the strange blue energy exploding against the AT-AT's armor. Instead, just a hundred meters out, just past where the other walker had been taken down, the blue mortars fell apart, washing the air with intense heat that the stormtrooper could see distort his view of the street and the mobile platforms firing the mortars.

"We're out of range," Hicks muttered and watched as the squat purple artillery platforms moved forward, "But they're not…"

The trooper sat down at the targeting station of the walker's cockpit and thumbed the heavy cannons, the two turbolaser batteries on the side of the transport's "head" turned ever so subtly and let loose with a thunderous roar.

One red laser hit the ground near one of the purple tanks, shattering duracrete and perforating the vehicle with shrapnel and debris, resulting in its destruction. The second laser struck a tank directly, completely vaporizing the mobile mortar platform and exploding between a pair of vehicles behind it, wrecking both of those as well. Through the targeting scanners, Hicks was able to watch as the rest of the mobile mortars disappeared behind cover. They'd had a taste of the walker's firepower, and were willing to wait him out.

Looking out the viewport at the sky, the Corporal watched a pair of purple and red aircraft swoop down and spray a stream of plasma across the AT-AT. Tactical readouts of the vehicles armor status declared that the damage was incredibly minor, and mostly cosmetic. That was when one of them launched some sort of green missile, striking the hump of the robotic camel and rocking the machine on its feet. This time the readouts were not as cheery.

Hicks stormed out into the troop bay and found six troopers waiting on his orders. Hudson, Frost, and Dietrich were all from Second Squad, Hicks own squad, and the other three were from various squads and fireteams. His manpower was limited, his options even more so. Retreat would result in summary execution for him and his men, while pressing forward in the AT-AT would result in a gruesome death at the hands of those alien tanks.

He'd have to take out those tanks first.

"Second Squad," Hicks pointed at the AT-ST's in the bay, "Mount up! You two!"

The two troopers he pointed at stiffened as they were addressed, "get to the roof, with rockets, keep those enemy fighters from tearing this thing apart."

Hicks swiveled back to the stormtrooper he had gone into the cockpit with, "Stay in there, you're going to cover our approach on the enemy position with the big guns. Use the blaster to cover our airspace, the turbolasers to pound enemy armor."

Finally he regarded the last trooper, "You, make sure no other aliens board this thing."

"How am I supposed to hold off another one of these things?" the stormtrooper kicked the white armored reptile laying dead on the floor.

"We brought an E-WEB," the Corporal pointed out, the massive repeating blaster cannon sitting in the back of the troop bay, "Set it up."

Dietrich and Frost hopped in the second AT-ST, the walker having two anti armor blaster cannons mounted on the side of the cab, while the one Hudson ducked into had one missile pod and one rotary blaster on either side of the cab as well as the two chin mounted blaster cannons. Dwayne crawled up the ladder on the walker and dropped into the cab with Hudson.

"What's the plan, man?" the Private asked as the Corporal flipped on the power source for the scout walker, "I haven't run a simulation on a scout walker in years, hope you're not expecting much."

"How'd you manage that?" Hicks asked, genuinely surprised, "Every four months every trooper has to run the pilot sims."

"I was, uh, sick."

Hicks shook his head, "Kriffin A."

The Corporal hit the switch underneath the dash and the floor beneath the scout walker dropped away, and his stomach surged into his mouth, before slamming into his feet as it pounded duracrete beneath it.

"I drive, you shoot."

"Whatever you say, man."

As the two AT-ST's surged ahead, small, pink speeders shot over the rubble pile, their speed keeping them airborne for a few seconds before dropping back down to just a few feet off the ground. Seven, in all, they were much thicker and bulkier then the speeders the Empire might deploy, but as they raced over cracked and burnt duracrete, they were evidently just as fast.

"_Contacts, closing in,_" Dietrich could be heard over the comms as she too, saw the large, pink speeders rush their position.

"Frost, Dietrich, move forward and engage, we'll cover."

The second scout walker moved forward, chin mounted blaster cannons and side mounted heavy blaster cannons swiveling around to point at the oncoming alien speeders. The walker swayed as it walked, but some of the most sophisticated targeting software in the galaxy kept the blasters' aim true as crimson bolts lashed out.

Two smaller bolts from the chin mounted guns struck one of the pink speeders head on, crumpling the metal and sending it into a side spin, but the pilot, some sort of short, squat alien with a triangular hump on its back, managed to save it and continued is run at the walkers. Its two companions were not as fortunate, as the heavy blaster bolts punched through the thick pink armor and destroying the repulsor lifts below, resulting in both speeders vanishing in a bright, blue cloud of fire and shrapnel.

"Track those speeders on the left," Hicks told Hudson as he yanked on the controls, moving the walker into a better firing position, "Missiles, one each."

"Only got twelve," Hudson said in such a way that he was asking the Corporal to confirm his orders.

"And we only got one shot at this, so lets leave it all out on the battlefield, open up."

Two missiles launched from the missile pod on the left side of the cab and shot forward towards the two speeders moving to flank the lead walker. One struck, detonating and ripping the armor and pilot apart in a gory and fiery mess, while the other one struck the duracrete beneath the speeder, flipping the vehicle and crushing the squat alien under its weight.

Of the seven speeders that had been on them from the start, only three remained, but their firepower made up for their lack of numbers, as hot blue bolts lashed out in remarkable quantities. Again, their seemed to be little kinetic force behind the shots, unlike the Empire's own blaster weapons, but the heat transferred by each round was enough to quickly melt through the much thinner armor of the AT-ST.

Watching his armor integrity drop like stone, Hicks swung the cab around and opened up with the chin mounted blasters, trying to keep the speeders from focusing their fire and buy Hudson some time to load up another pair of missiles. The two that had fired on him scattered as his blaster fire struck one of them, crumpling the armor but leaving the speeder intact. Across the street, Dietrich and Frost were doing the same as Hicks and Hudson, trying to keep the speeders from focusing them with their devastating energy weapons, but their strange blasters weren't the only dangerous aspect of the vehicles.

One of the pink speeders Hicks had fended off hit some sort of booster, rocketing off, directly towards the legs of Dietrich and Frost's walker. The large, thick, and powerful speeder collided with the thin, if very durable, legs of the AT-ST, sweeping the left leg right out from under the walker. With a groan of durasteel, the tall walker fell and the cab hit the ground with a resounding boom.

"Sith spit, man! What are we gonna do?"

"Do you have missile locks? Hudson! Do you have missile locks?"

The Private was breathing hard as he tore his eyes away from the downed AT-ST and looked down at his instruments, "Yeah, uh, yeah, on all three."

"Then fire!"

Three missiles launched from the pod, all drifting in the air above the walker for a second before lashing out and destroying all three speeders in quick red and blue explosions.

"We have to push forward," the Corporal proclaimed, pushing the walker forward towards the road block, "we get over that rubble and there are probably going to be enemy troops all over the place, have the rotary blaster ready."

Hudson continued to simply mutter under his breath, every statement punctuated by a whiny "man!" as the trooper began spinning up the anti-infantry rotary blaster. Above them, a few more of those purple air speeders dove down, looking like they were going to make an airstrike that the AT-ST would certainly not survive, when large red blaster bolts lanced out and vaporized the strike craft. Good to know the trooper in the AT-AT still had his back.

They were approaching the road block when the comms lit up.

"_Behind you, look out!"_

Hicks didn't have a chance to turn the walker around when something crashed into the cab, lurching the two troopers in their seats.

"What was-"

The hatch ripped open and one thick, hairy arm reached down and pulled Hudson through the opening.

"Aw man, game over man, game over!"

There was a sickening crunch, and the hand reached down again, grabbing Hicks and pulling him through, but unlike Hudson, the Corporal was ready, with his shatter gun already in his hands. As he was hauled up, he was brought face to face with perhaps the ugliest creature he had ever seen.

As though it were some sort of super wookie, it was hairy, with a toothy maw, muscles on muscles on muscles, and a size that have it towering over any wookie. None of that mattered, however, when the barrel of the shatter gun was pressed against its chest and Hicks pulled the trigger.

The weapon jerked in his hands as the back of the alien's torso blew out, and the Corporal waited for gravity to take over and drag him to the ground, only for the vicious looking simian in front of him to snarl in pain, and squeeze.

Hicks felt bones break between his shoulder blades as the massive paw holding him squeezed, and his arms went limp as he lost all feeling in his body. Finally he felt the pull of gravity as he was tossed from the top of the walker onto the ground. The impact would have hurt more, if he hadn't lost all feeling in his body apart from his neck and head. His position was that he could just see the brutish alien leap from the top of the AT-ST and land on the ground with a grunt. The hole in its torso was bleeding profusely, and Hicks felt a little bit of satisfaction as he knew the alien would die.

The alien staggered over to him, and looked like it was going to drive its strange bladed weapon down into his body to finish the stormtrooper off, when it looked up to the sky, confusion visible on its face, before explosions wracked the street, passing over the pair's head and striking the rubble directly ahead. That was when the Corporal's helmet crackled with more radio chatter.

"_Red Leader, confirm effect?"_

"_Copy Red two, good target, path is clear."_

The silhouette of a Tie Striker passed overhead, the specialized Tie fighter spitting green death from its wing mounted cannons, striking the purple air speeders out of the air with impunity.

"_This is PFC Rodin, requesting additional air strike one hundred meters north of last coordinates."_

"_Copy that, PFC, reading multiple armored targets, Red Four, Red Five, take them out. Blaster to soften them up, missiles to finish them off."_

Two Tie Strikers sped by again, green blaster bolts lashing out, followed by the smoke trails of concussion missiles burning hard towards their target. At the resounding explosion, the monster above him roared in rage and pain, gripped its bladed weapon in both hands, and plunged it down into Hick's face.

**You've probably got questions, ask and I will try and answer.**

**Next? Ship to ship battles? A little bit more of frontline fighting, maybe from the covenant perspective? A little more of the tactical side of things between the commanders? Let me know.**

**For the record, there isn't really a story in mind here, this is just a thought exercise for myself that I thought I'd post here. I might continue the scenario beyond Christophsis if this becomes popular, which, lets be honest, it already isn't and probably won't ever be popular, which would introduce more story elements like, why is the covenant invading, what is the empire going to do about it, whats going on with the rebel alliance.**

**Quit asking about the UNSC, they're not coming.**


End file.
